


Five Times Kitty Played With Illyana's Tail & the Time Illyana Played Back

by Magik3



Category: New Mutants, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/F, Tails
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magik3/pseuds/Magik3
Summary: Title says it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite done. Apologies!

  
What people don’t understand—because I don’t tell them—is that my tail is there all the time. As a potentiality. You can’t see it, but I can feel it. Same with the horns, fangs, all of it.  
  
Much of the time, I forget about them. As with other parts of my body that I don’t think about, like earlobes, like the middle part of my back, like toes two through four.  
  
For a long time I never wanted anyone to see. Because it was there all the time, a part  of me that shouldn’t have been. Because of everything it meant.  
  
But for Kitty sometimes, it was a kind of fun, in ways I couldn’t understand. Almost like we were having a slow, gentle argument with our bodies.  
  
I was saying: _I could hurt you_  
  
She was saying: _You never will_  
  
I was saying: _This is my pain_  
  
She was saying: _I’m sorry you had that pain, but it made you powerful and beautiful_  
  
I was saying: _this is about destruction, about being something that shouldn’t exist_  
  
She was saying: _you are never something that shouldn’t exist, you’re wonderful as you are_  
  
I’m glad she won.  
  
*  
  
During a practice session in the danger room, I caught her wrist with my tail. She looped it again around her forearm and used it to pull me off balance. Later she said, “You tail’s pretty strong,” in this half-dreamy voice. I walked out. I couldn’t answer her.  
  
She let it alone for a while.  
  
*  
  
In the kitchen, I used it to hold a bowl in place so I could pour the leftover salad into a bag.  
  
Kitty came in and put her hands around my tail where it wrapped the bowl, holding both. Heat flushed up through me. Her fingers were near the tip, where it becomes very sensitive.  
  
Yes, that’s almost exactly like how it sounds.  
  
I dematerialized my tail and she almost dropped the bowl.  
  
*  
  
I woke with my tail curled around her arm. I suspected that she’d looped it around, because of the way it crossed her palm—like it had manifested in my sleep, as it sometimes does, and she caught it and wrapped her arm in it.  
  
I pulled it loose. Wrapped it twice around her arm. Fell back asleep.  
  
*  
  
I woke with my tail between her legs. She’d come in late and spooned up behind me. At some point my tail, having a mind of its own, pushed into manifestation between us. She’d shifted up, or I’d shifted down.  
  
My tail’s base is about as big around as my forearm. Kitty wasn’t awake, her breathing was too deep and slow for that, but she was rubbing herself lightly on my tail.  
  
And I wanted her to. But I dematerialized it anyway.  
  
*  
  
At Dr. Strange’s because of the magic he’d been doing, trying to take Belasco’s spells out of my body, for a few days I couldn’t turn fully human again. Kitty had come with me and we were sharing one of the guest bedrooms. I offered to sleep in another room.  
  
“Don’t be silly, you’re the one who’s weird about your tail,” she said. “I grew up with Kurt and Lockheed. I like tails.”  
  
I was going to protest that those weren’t demon tails, but with Kurt I didn’t know. His sure looked a lot like mine, other than being blue. I wanted to ask him but I didn’t know how to.  
  
Kitty asked, “When you were sparring, Dr. Strange said not to use the pad, which part is that?”  
  
I sighed because when Kitty gets curious about a thing …  
  
I told her, “It’s where the round part meets the tip, on the underside, there’s a bit where the skin has more mechanoreceptors.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“You know how your fingers are more precisely sensitive so you can pick things up in a way you couldn’t with, like, your elbows? That’s mechanoreceptors. Most prehensile tails have a friction pad full of them, a hairless spot for picking up and manipulating little things. In that fight I was trying to grab Dr. Strange’s arm, so I should use the area down from my pad because it’s stronger and less vulnerable.”  
  
“You should practice,” she said and held up her arm.  
  
I wrapped my tail around her wrist. “It’s too easy if you’re not moving.”  
  
With her other hand, she touched the tip of my tail, followed it down, found the change in skin texture that signaled the pad. The rough inner edge of her thumb brushed across its sensitive surface and my knees wobbled, eyes rolling up, shivers of pleasure through me.  
  
I jerked my tail away and went to find some ice to chew.  
  
  
*  
  
When I got back, Kitty wasn’t talking to me. Not in an angry way, but somewhere on the frustrated-to-sad spectrum. As if she’d done something wrong just because I’m twitchy about my tail.  
  
“Movie?” I suggested. “Living room? Leftovers and ice cream?”  
  
“Is anyone there?”  
  
Very fair question for Dr. Strange’s house—and one that could be hard to answer. Not everyone here was visible all the time.  
  
“I didn’t see anyone on my way up. Dr. Strange and Clea went out.”  
  
We got leftovers from the fridge. I’d put them on the top shelf very far away from the opaque tupperware with the frightening sign: Do NOT eat. NOT food!  
  
Sitting together on the couch, I put my arm around her. She spread a blanket across our legs. My tail was still manifest, tucked between the couch seat cushions and back cushions and then running down the side of my leg. I’d been flicking it against the floor and, without overthinking it, I moved the tip across my ankle to touch Kitty’s.  
  
She jumped and pulled the blanket aside, saw my tail, small smile, put the blanket back, went back to watching the movie. Or pretending to.  
  
I rubbed her ankle, curled around it, pad on the inside so I could feel the delicate bones there.  
  
I went up the inside of her calf. One great thing about a tail is it’s long, so I could leave the warmth of it along her skin as I journeyed upward. Up to her knee, under her skirt.  
  
She pushed an arm behind her, around my lower back, found my tail where it curled around my body and held onto it lightly. Her head sank onto my shoulder, her body pressing into my side. I tightened my arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her face.  
  
Near the tip of my tail it’s about as big around as three of my fingers, if they were all bunched together, and the pad had the same sensitivity, and yet I didn’t think of it like a third hand. It had always just been my tail. Thinking of it like a hand was disorienting, especially since my tail was over a foot longer than my arms.  
  
I rubbed the pad slowly up the inside of Kitty’s thigh. Her breath quickened and she moved her legs a little further apart.  
  
I bunched the blanket up more in my lap because to reach higher on Kitty, I had to bring my tail up higher on my body. I pulled it away, parted my legs just enough, slipped it between my legs so it went around my hip, down between my knees, up between Kitty’s legs. That way if someone walked in on us—not unexpected here—the only visible rise in the blanket from my tail was across the top of my left thigh. By leaning a throw pillow there and rucking up the blanket, I could disguise it.  
  
I went back up the inside of Kitty’s leg, pressing the length of my tail to her skin, and found the crease at the top of her thigh, the scalloped edge of her panties.  
  
The tip of my tail isn’t quite as sensitive as the pad. I flicked the tip along that edge of fabric and then lay the pad there instead, rubbed it. Kitty shifted her hips, trying to get me a little closer to her more sensitive parts.  
  
Kitty straightened up and looked around the room. Still only us. She pulled her arm out from behind me, reached down under the blanket, reached in from the right side with her other hand. I felt the fabric of her skirt rise as she tucked her hands under it from beneath. I moved my tail toward the floor, out of the way, as she tugged her panties down over her hips, down over her knees, neatly lifted one foot and the other.  
  
She lifted the book she’d been reading from the couch—programming something or other—opened it to the back, neatly folded her panties and set them there, then closed the book. That was so Kitty: innocent panties that weren’t that innocent, neatly folded, hidden in a computer book.  
  
She put her arm back around me and returned to pretending to watch a movie that neither of us cared about. Except … without panties. In a skirt.  
  
“I love you,” I whispered.  
  
“You’re easy,” she said, laughter in the words. “I love you, too.” She meant “easy to please” not “loose,” though I wouldn’t have minded the latter. I was difficult in a lot of ways; it was good to be easy sometimes.  
  
Of course I wanted my tail between her legs immediately, but this would be the first time I got to touch her that way, and I wanted to remember all of it.  



	2. Chapter 2

  
Kitty had other plans.   
  
I slid my tail up the inside of her leg, moderate pressure, brushed the outside of her outer lips, found the place where they parted. I pressed the pad there, felt her lips part more. Wanted to use my fingers too, but living room, movie, Strange house, blanket, pretending we weren’t doing this.   
  
I slid the pad of my tail between her lips, into a thick, hot wetness. “Oh,” I breathed in surprise because I hadn’t thought she’d be this turned on yet.  
  
She slipped her right hand under the blanket, under her skirt, found my tail, the tip, the pad, took it in fingers and thumb and moved the pad over her clit.   
  
“More please,” she whispered.   
  
I curled my tail so it pressed between her lips. She rocked her hips and rubbed the pad against her clit, or her clit against the pad, since I could feel that hot, wet, firm softness very clearly.   
  
Some sounds in the whimpered-moan category made it through my tightly shut lips. Kitty murmured appreciatively, moving faster.   
  
I heard the front door open downstairs. “Oh shit.”  
  
“We have time,” Kitty whispered. “Please.”   
  
I fumbled for the remote and bumped up the TV volume a few notches. I had no idea if we were even on the same movie. My eyes hadn’t focused on the screen in a while. I’d been watching Kitty’s hand move under the blanket, watching her chest rise and fall faster, her mouth barely open, eyes half-closed. And much more than watching, feeling her against the super-sensitive skin of my tail pad—my tail hadn’t been in the world as often as my fingers, it hadn’t toughened up.   
  
“It’s hard inside,” she whispered.  
  
“Bones,” I said. “Tiny vertebrae. Lots of them.”  
  
She made a sound of agreement, returned her attention to rubbing herself on me, pressing me into her. I felt her muscles tighten as she tried not to move too much, bracing herself with her arm around my waist.   
  
Her body clenched, she whispered, “oh, please,” half moaned, half-muffled against my shoulder. The warmth enfolding my tail spasmed, the energy of her pleasure rippled up my tail, through my body, rocking my head back against the couch.   
  
I was coming without having touched myself, the sensations from Kitty transmitted physically and magically through my tail in waves, as if I was having her climax too. Less sharp than my usual, waves that overlapped, each higher than the previous. Being borne up and dashed more completely into that joy, shuddering pleasure.   
  
I held on to her and felt our bodies shake.   
  
She relaxed and then I could too. Our bodies leaned sideways together, breathing in unison. I pressed my cheek to the top of her head and rested in that unity.  
  
Strange peeked in the doorway. “How are you two doing?”   
  
I turned my head enough to grin, give him a thumbs up and a nod. Kitty’s head stayed on my shoulder, her eyes closed, looking asleep if you didn’t see how fast her breathing was.   
  
“Good, good,” he said. “Don’t stay up too late.”   
  
I nodded again and put a finger to my lips. He smirked and went up to the next floor. I had no idea if he was on to us or not.   
  
His door on the third floor opened and shut. He said something indistinct to Clea, who’d gone up ahead of him. She started laughing.   
  
When they fell silent, Kitty asked, “Can we do that again?”   
  
“Uh, yeah.”  
  
“Does your tail also go, you know, inside?”  
  
“Yeah,” I said, roughly, not having quite caught my breath. “If I curl the tip with my fingers. Then once inside it kind of folds back and the pad … it’s good.”   
  
“Can we do that?”   
  
“Oh yeah, absolutely. Now? Not here, though, right? Are you going to phase us into our room or wait until I can stand up?”  
  
“Phase,” she said, and did.


End file.
